Ode to Erik
by peachi padwan
Summary: See the one called V & the Shadow Gallery through different eyes! His rants & observations of his home & his 'sparring partner! Pure silliness, very entertaining. Please review.
1. Chapter 1

**_A/N: This is completely silly and not serious in anyway. After watching the film numerous times, I began to feel sorry for this poor guy. (Sure you can guess who it is!) So much suffering and no one to tell it to! It's just a bit of fun and light entertainment. Will update regularly with new connotations and observations as I think of them!_**

Ode to Erik

Introductions & Rantings First

"I have had enough. I'm totally sick of all this abuse. I can't take it any more! Everyday without relent; he is at me like a rabid animal! Prodding and poking, slashing and slicing, does the man not sleep? And like an idiot I just stand here and take it. I never complain, never grumble, nothing. Okay, so I'm missing a few vital 'components' that would allow me protest, but does he not realize that I have feelings too? How would he like to be attacked every day and not be able to defend himself? He cut my frigging head off the other day! Swoosh, one clean sweep and it was off! Most chuffed with himself he was…pillac. And he didn't even have the courtesy to put it back straight away; he left me headless for thirty-five minutes! A right draft there was because of that!

Oh he may think he looks the fine cad; pirouetting like a girl, leaping about like a lord, twirling about like a dervish…what a prat. Doesn't he see how ridiculous he looks? And all those stupid noises he makes while he's at it… wazzerck. God my armor shook that time he tried some new fancy move on me, flat on his back! If I could have laughed out loud the whole place would have caved in! Served the idiot right.

Never bothers to polish me, or shine me up. Never buffs out the sword marks he leaves. Never oils my joints…nothing. My armor is dented to buggery; I've lost any value I might have had! Doesn't he know that I once adorned the bodies of knights? Kings? Men of honor? I rode into battle on the shoulders of proud men. I glistened in the sunlight and was adored by all for my splendor and craftsmanship. Survived decades and now look what I'm reduced to; the sparring partner of a man with a foil and a wig. Such is grandeur…

Stuck in this dusty hole in the ground. No windows, no light, no air, nothing. The _Shadow Gallery_ he calls it? Pah! Might as well be the bloody Shadow Prison or the Shadow bloody Tomb! I've been staring at these walls for nigh on ten years now and I'm sick to death of it! The dust is unbelievable! He doesn't clean like he should; just swishes a duster over the tops of things, doesn't get right into the corners or anything. I mean that poor Venus over there is swamped in an inch of dust! Big fancy terrorist, Mr. 'I'm-going-to-save-the-world-with-my-bombs'. How can he clean up this government without even being able to clean up a bit of dust!

Well I've had enough of it. I'm going to make a stand, stick up for myself, show him who's boss for a change! I'm taller than him, and I've seen much more battle! He pretends to be Guy Fawkes, running round with that daft mask and cape. I was around when the real Guy Fawkes was teething!

Yes, I'm going to do it! I'm going to march right past him and out of that door!

Erm, well…just as soon as I find someone to wear me I will…"


	2. Chapter 2

**_A/N: These connotations come in no particular order; Erik is very old after all and struggles with remembering things in their proper sequence._**

Ode to Erik 

The Rantings Continue…

"Well! Shine me up and call me King Arthur, that useless fop has actually done something today! Instead of watching those silly films, or reading those boring tomes or indeed trying to amputate me, he has actually done something!

To my complete amazement he approached me rather suspiciously this afternoon, in the manner that he usually does before setting about me. He stalked around me for a while, eyeing me up and muttering to himself beneath that mask. _Here we go,_ I thought to myself. Then he took a step back and brandished……….a yellow duster! My head nearly fell clean off in shock! Imagine my incredulity continue when in the other hand he produced some polish! My birthdays and Christmases had all come at once!

Well, he went to work, polishing me till I shone like a new shilling! Buffed my vambraces, shone my cuirass, and even polished my greaves! Proud as punch I was! Here was my sparring partner, cleaning me up and finally looking after me as he should! I even saw him shake those dusty rugs and polish the grand piano too! I was truly shocked! I was a bit disappointed though; too lazy he was to get the vacuum cleaner out, he just swept the dust under the rug by the wall, but it's an improvement on before!

Yes, just when I began to believe he was finally taking a pride in his home, it hit me. Like a lance to the face it hit me.

He brought a girl back with him last night; god knows where he got the poor little creature from. He wasn't cleaning the Shadow Gallery because he wanted to, he didn't want his prize to think he was a scruffy git living in a dusty underground hole. Ohhhh, if I could tell her, I have a mind to_, check under the rugs_ I'd say! God knows what she'll catch from all the muck down here!

(I was wondering why he was fumbling around with that copy of Woman & Home last night; lingering a little too long on the 'How to cook French toast' page he was, but now it makes sense.)

I should tell her, that her rescuer is little more than a man in a daft mask, who can't cook or clean and wears a ridiculous wig (that hairstyle went out of fashion when the Stuarts lost their reign by the way.) He keeps a filthy house, how can he entertain guests if he won't clean regularly? No wonder he hasn't got a girlfriend or indeed any friends for that matter! Just a little dust and a bit of polish once a week never killed any one…

Hang about…what's that…?

Oh, what is that…smell?

Aw that smells horrid!

Smells like…burning…egg…toast…

Oh dear god…"


	3. Chapter 3

Ode to Erik

Will The Rantings Ever Cease?

"Dear lord, he completely fumigated the gallery with his attempt to play Martha bloody Stewart, I shall smell burnt eggs for the next month. God awful stench gets every where! It's clinging to my armour! Completely useless; what a waste of perfectly good eggs and bread. _Stick to throwing your knives and blowing buildings up you vigilante! _

And that apron? What a joke! Where did that beauty spring from? That will definately woo the ladies won't it? Doesn't he realise that floral-kitsch and terrorist just don't go well together? How that little creature kept from laughing at him one only can guess!

Oh well she gobbled down that breakfast…yes very yummy wasn't it my lovely? Your fantastic rescuer saves you, brings you here and cooks for you! Amazing, what a gent! Impresses her with butter and tea and other fancies. But shall I tell her that her brave cad, after fourteen eggs and twenty-three slices of bread later, threw a paddy like a little bawling brat just because he couldn't get it right? Stomping his feet and clenching his fists, I thought his wig would pop clean off! Oh if I could just tell her…

Makes me chuckle he does; with his posh books, ever so eloquent linguistics and his never ending knowledge on _everything_! Perfect, just perfect isn't he? Well if she saw the things I could see, her view might be a bit different! He doesn't always read his high-to-do books you know. If I remember rightly, I have a Marvel comic in my left leg, a copy of Spiderman number twenty-five I think it is. Chucked it in there when he heard her moving about in her sleep last night, doesn't want his mysterious reputation to be tainted by Doctor Octopus….berk.

Well, I like this little creature, Eve or Evey I think she's called. Quite delightful she is. Polite, well mannered and no pretences, unlike my foolish sparring partner. Pretty too; I'd have been proud to ride into a joust with her favour with me! But then anything that distracts his attention from wanting to engage in battle with me gets my vote!

I think I've taken a shine to her _(excuse the pun.)_ She seemed mightily impressed by my armour; having a good nose around me and admiring my gauntlets she was. But as a true gentleman I obeyed my law of the knights and stood silently with much chivalry. I really felt like we were bonding, really getting to know each other, until that masked ooff came along and stole her away from me. Dragging her off to watch some bloody film no doubt. Which one are you going to force upon her today?

Let me guess…

Yes I was right…

The Count of Monte Cristo…how did I know? He's seen it a thousand times and more! _You're not Edmond you buffoon!_

I know that's what he's thinking of when he's slashing me to pieces. He's Edmond Dantes and I always have to Fernand Mondego the bad guy.

"_Surrender Mondego you dog, Mercedes is mine, you'll never have her!" He yells like Mercedes is stood behind me._

_Oh shut up you daft git, you're such a prat._

I sick of being Mondego. Why can't I be Edmond for a bloody change! Give me a sword and I'll show you a dual!

Oh dear, here we go, three hours of pure boredom. I bet he'll start chatting away, showing off by spouting out all the lines to the film.

Oh look please, you two, can someone turn me around so I can face the wall or something?

Anything?

Please?

Oh why do I have to be facing the television?"


	4. Chapter 4

Ode to Erik

Minor Observations Of The 'Human' Psyche

"He's a crafty thing, that one called V, very crafty indeed. I've been watching him, snooping around the gallery like a crazed stalker, slipping in and out of the shadows. Acting very bizarrely I might add; he's been _out of sorts_ for want of a better phrase.

I've caught him doing the strangest things, some which I hazard he wouldn't do if it weren't for the presence of a certain young lady. I'd risk my shine and go as far to say that I think he's trying to woo her!

Take this morning for example. It must have been no later than half past five, when I awoke to the sounds of someone creeping about the Shadow Gallery. My natural reaction of course was to battle this invisible creature into submission, but due to my lack of body and restriction of movement, I decided to stay perfectly still and waited for the fiend to reveal himself. After a few more minutes of doors opening and feet scuffling about, the mysterious wrongdoer exposed his identity. It was none other than that sneaky fop V! Acting most peculiar he was; I deduced that he was hiding something. Surely enough after he felt quite safe again in his surroundings, he removed his hat and his ridiculous cloak to reveal an armful of……beauty products!

Yes dear lord, bottles, tubs, lotions and potions, all kinds of them. I caught a glimpse of them and they were numerous! I knew they couldn't have been for himself; he's rather fussy about _his_ beauty regime!

I mean why does such a little woman need so many products! There was Rose Hip & Organic Thyme Shine Enhancing Shampoo, Jojoba & Indian Honey Silkening Conditioner, Dead Sea Salt Exfoliating Body Scrub, Coconut & Peruvian Almond Enhanced Body Butter, Mint & Crushed Diamond Peel Off Face Mask…..oh so bloody many. And I could tell that V was just as stupefied as I! Shaking his head and muttering to himself, I felt a tinge of pity, but it didn't last! Then he disappeared into the guest bathroom and spent the longest time in there, no doubt arranging the products just so. Makes me glad I don't have to bother with all that! A bit of metal polish and I'm dandy!

Mmmm, very odd all this behaviour. There was the beauty episode, and then he took to ridding the entire gallery of his beloved Marvel and DC comics. Into a large black box they went and high on top of a dusty cupboard they now reside. How he put Batman and Wolverine into that box I shall never know. He'll have to stick to pretending to look intelligent now with his unused copies of Summa Theologica and Utopia.

And mercy knows what he's going to do with all those copies of Woman & Home and Cooking With Friends, he can't stash them…he needs them too much! Without them this place would eventually be the most sophisticated and learned bonfire in England! They have helped him prance about like he's a French master chef; impressing little Evey with his provincial wild monkfish and red onion marmalade or his hand-reared, sun-blasted, crushed, char-grilled chicken and minced black olive paste…bloody show off.

Yes, very very strange all this change and creeping about. This pretty young imp is obviously having some effect on him! Some of it I quite like; I mean, I'm not getting attacked quite so often and when he can remember he runs the duster over me. But some of this change I like a lot less. He's constantly spouting off all these high-to-do, fancy quotes that no bugger understands. He replays every old film in existence to impress her. His posture and walk is some what different, more assertive. And he tries to cook; deary deary me, that is another foible in itself.

I have observed many changes in the few days that the girl has been with us, many indeed. But some I can tolerate, others I cannot and I simply have to voice my concern. I can stand the idiotic prose and the constant smell of acrid food. I can stand the films _(barely)_ and I can even at a push tolerate the façade of feigned intelligence.

But what I **cannot** stand is to be romanced by a lothario wearing a wig! There are barriers in life, ones which should not be breached. Codes to which we must live by and rules we must stick to, and I wish he could obey some of them! Trots over to me when the girl is asleep and tries to seduce me! Puffs his chest out like a courting peacock, raises his chin in pretend pride. Takes my chain mail hand in his, like he is holding her own and whispers sweet nothings to me and then….I can barely bring myself to say it….kisses my hand……uuuuuuuuuurgh!

_Why Evey, you look ravishing today._

_What's that Evey? You find me overpoweringly and amazingly attractive? Why you flatter me!_

_Yes my love of course you can massage me, I have no objections to that._

_Oh Evey, you really ought not to say such things, we simply cannot do that, not there……….well if you insist!_

(I really cannot divulge the last one….disgusting, makes my armour quiver.)

In the space of a few short days, I have gone from a metallic inanimate sparring partner of a masked terrorist, to the object of desire and affection of a man who pretends to be Guy Fawkes for a living! _Try your chat-up lines and fantasies elsewhere!_

I think I preferred him when he was decapitating me."


	5. Chapter 5

Ode to Erik

Observations Of The Girl

"Well I must say it hasn't taken long for things to get back to some form of normality, and I'm quite enjoying it! Granted it's not the same as before, but it's different in a good way!

That little Evey has been here for two weeks now and it's as if she's always been here. It's like she belongs! She fits in very well I must confess, just muddles along and does her best. Gets stuck in with it all and keeps us all jollying along nicely! Even Miss De Milo likes her!

(Very strange, as Venus never likes anyone, but she was saying only last week how it was good to have another girl about the place. Venus is very pretty but doesn't have much going on upstairs, if you get me? More often than not, when she starts gabbing I usually just ignore her and pretend to be asleep, but I agree with her on this one!)

Evey brings a certain something to the place, a….how can I put it….quality that was lacking before. Maybe it's because she's a girl, and we've always been used to just us boys down here, with all the rough and tumbles we incur. It seems brighter, warmer and generally nicer here now. The atmosphere is much lighter. I quite like this change she's brought, about time the cobwebs got blown away I say!

Makes me chuckle when that fop finds her little things around the place. He is genuinely confused and seriously perplexed. He tilts his head to the right and tries desperately to understand her doings, foibles and feminine items, but he makes me laugh when his male mind draws an utter blank!

Yesterday it was a bowl of potpourri she had placed in the television room. He picked it up most cautiously, fingered the little dried flowers and eventually gave it a sniff of approval! The day before that, it was a pink shimmery lip-gloss left by the sink, most alien to him I might add. And the day before that, he found her music player. Oh I laughed when that little white thing blasted out the most bizarre ditty and he struggled to make it stop, before she came along and explained exactly who it was. (Can't say I've ever heard of NSYNC before.)

Even more funny was when he was doing the laundry the other day, and in amongst his nice fresh load of crisp clean black tunics, he discovered something that resembled a piece of cloth held together by string, most peculiar. V and I later learned that this was not some new fang dangled type of eye-patch, nor was it a method of flossing one's teeth. Rather it was an under garment worn by many a young woman now a days. I tell you, my helmet nearly popped off in hysterics, and I could feel the heat radiating from beneath his mask in embarrassment as he handed it back to her! Under garments weren't like that in my day I can safely say!

And the bathroom? That Edmond fancier has blown buildings up and rescued pretty maidens, I should imagine he's fairly brave. But the guest bathroom? Well, even _he_ won't venture in there now! I think he would be even further confused by all her little belongings! Good lord, the smells and steam that come from that room now! I think it's best if he just keeps a good distance away.

Oh though she does tug at my not existent heart strings; I do think I feel a twinge of something for her you know. But two star-crossed lovers we are; she mortal flesh and I immortal metal. Anyway, such a pretty little creature and so full of energy and life. If she's not bouncing about with excitement at another one of V's boring films, she's cleaning and polishing me furiously or cooking something for the grand master himself! She can cook a damn sight better than he can and without the aid of a book! The smell of those little biscuits she makes wafting about, mmmm…heaven in a macaroon! Much better than the smell of singed pork or cremated pasta I can tell you!

And when I said things have gone back to normal of a sort, I mean that crazed fiend has taken to setting about me again. Oh indeed, back to normal with that side of things. Only a few hours ago did I lose my right arm, swish and straight off it was! Luckily nurse Hammond was on hand to administer vital re-attachment surgery. That sweet little creature, always looking out for old Erik! So sparring with him doesn't seem _quite_ so horrendous now, knowing she's going to make me all better again!

Yes. I do so like things as they are now; very pleasant, very pleasant indeed. I especially enjoy it when that cad leaves for the night to commit his foulnesses above ground, and Evey and I are allowed some time alone together. Conversation is not what one would call amazing (I talk to her, she can't hear; she talks to me, I can't reply) but it is something to save me from my loneliness. And she really is very nice to look at.

--------------------

There is only one qualm I have, actually more of a query really, one out of pure interest.

Evey is very attractive, very sweet, polite and well mannered.

She is caring, charming, kind and lovely to be around.

She is graceful, delicate and with all the ecclesiastic poise of a seraph.

She is an angel sent from god I am sure of it.

Why is it then, that when she sleeps, I frequently hear such an un-godly rumble like snore coming from her room?"


	6. Chapter 6

**_(Just a quick nod to the inspirational Belmont-Bellamy, thank you for your input...you know what I mean! This one's for you, enjoy!)_**

Ode to Erik

Man-Made Harpies

"Oooohhhh I tell you. This bloody place has been a buzz with chatter recently. It rings from every wall and corner, goes on night and bloody day! It's like living in a cattle market! The constant nagging and cat-calling of fish-wives and harpies.

Evey has been with us now for nigh on a month, and lovely it is too. I and my masked sparring partner are both enjoying her company, but I tell you that there are some here that are not! And I bet you can guess who they are?

Yes that's right. All those statues, sculptures and paintings that look like butter wouldn't melt, well mares they are! Like a pack of wolves, ravenous and baying for blood all the time! Crazed women; deranged and incensed with jealousy! The gossip and slurs I am privy to would amaze even the hardiest of souls! The get into their little gang and its open-day on Evey!

The slanders they fire at and about poor little Evey are untrue, horrifying even! I have never known women behave in such a way. Women in my day were graceful, poised and obediently polite. They spoke with confidence and yet with humility. Now-a-days it seems that women are worse than the men! The language is foul; it turns the very air I breathe blue! And the constant stream of tittle-tattle and scandal is akin to school-yard politics!

Poor Evey, if she could hear what I hear, I think she would flee the gallery and never return!

Just the other day, there I was minding my own business when Evey approached me with the usual yellow duster and metal polish. She set about as she does always, cleaning my various bits and bobs (and I very much enjoying this might I add!) When all of a sudden, there came the most bizarre and hideous hissing noise from the corner of the gallery to my right. I sneakily glanced around to see this thing that can only be described as a stone head void of a body mounted onto a wooden plinth, with its mouth wide open producing this foul sound.

Then to my amazement, that striking sculpture opposite me by the piano began to join in with this hissing. Pretty soon, there was a whole chorus of varying hisses resonating around the gallery! After a while, the hissing stopped and it wasn't until I gave it some extra consideration, that this hissing had ceased when Evey left the room!

A little later on when all was quiet, I confided in that block head Venus about what had happened. She explained (rather dizzily) that the head void of a body was in fact a tenth century sculpture from ancient Africa that spoke no English. She then explained that this apparent hissing was indeed aimed at dear Evey, as the head had taken an intense dislike to her when she saw her. Because she spoke no English, she resorted to hissing, which in tenth century Africa was a serious sign of hatred. I was then shocked to learn that nearly every other female artwork in the gallery felt the same, therefore joining in with the hissing, which had become an actual form of showing one's disgust and resentment.

Venus explained further that the females felt threatened and exceedingly jealous of Evey, as she was directing V's attention from them to her! Before Evey had arrived, V had spent many hours wandering the Shadow Gallery admiring the forms of these beautiful temptresses. But now, he no longer carried out his parade of admiration, instead concentrating his attention upon the fleshy, breathing one! Apparently, there is no ring leader in this group of scandal; just those who spot Evey first instigate it.

But the rumours? There are rumours you know! Ridiculous; and I know they are as I spend most of my day watching Evey and have listened to what she says of her life and past. Venus filled me in upon the latest rumours circulating about the poor child. They are varied and ludicrous I must warn you.

First of all, Evey actually has six toes on each foot and each toe is webbed, which means she is a love child of the Devil and Hades. Preposterous! Evey has normal toes that are not webbed as I have seen them myself. (I would hazard that rumour came from Miss Africa.)

Secondly, Evey sneaks out of her room at night and eats the entire contents of the pantry, leaving the wrappers then sneaking back to bed, that's why she is so fat. I doubt this one too. Evey never comes out of her room at night. Once she's asleep, she's asleep; _I can vouch for that_! And she can't be more than eight stone wet, the starved girl!

Another delight to spring from the over active imagination of these idiots, is that Evey has brain-washed V into letting her live with him and that she is planning to burn all his books, paintings and artworks so that he concentrates on her and her alone, and so they can have lots of babies. How outrageous! I saw him bring her back her, she certainly isn't brain-washing him, more than likely to be the other way around!

I can see them, watching her with their stone eyes and painted faces. Just waiting, praying for her to make a mistake; a stumble, a trip, anything to provide some gossip and twisted entertainment for them.

I tell you, what won't a jealous woman think of? They just love to fling their insidious lies about that poor girl, and she can't even defend herself!

Well, I have taken on that mantle; I am Evey's one protector! I have decided that I shall combat these heinous slurs and repugnant women by asserting my masculinity over them!

I shall stand tall and proud and true!

Their outlandish behaviour will go unvetted no longer!

I have battled dragons, knights and slain kings, these mere women are no match for me!

I am strong, I am Evey's last chance, the defender of her virtue, dignity and character!

I am going to tell these hags just what I think of them and where to stick their lies!

Well, I will, just as soon as that tenth century head thing stops hissing at me……."


	7. Chapter 7

Ode to Erik

The Little Diva

"Oh dear…we have a problem…a rather _big_ problem.

It seems that in this sleepy stone palace, safe from Fingermen and other undesirables, deep below the streets of London, all hell has broken loose.

There is a war of catastrophic proportions going on; I fear that even I, brave old Erik, can do nought to stop it.

Guns have been replaced with harsh words from forked tongues. Bayonets have been pushed aside in favour of murderous looks. Grenades have been discarded for severe cold shoulders and ruthless ignorance. Daggers replaced with snide insults and cheap shots.

Things have gone from zero to all out war in mili-seconds.

In fact, things have gone nuclear. Nagasaki was never this bad I can tell you. The mushroom-cloud that has enveloped this place is unbelievable!

Nothing is safe; no-one escapes this feud, we're all privy to it. Myself, Venus, hissing head thing and everyone else, yes we watch it all in despair.

Harmless china plates have been smashed. Antique alabaster jars have been toppled. Ancient books have been launched. Wooden mixing spoons have become air-borne. Heavy leather boots have been hurled.

It's like being in World War Three or another Cold War!

I mean, some things deserve this level of warfare. This level of out and out aggression.

For example, Russia invading Germany.

Or the president of the United States being held hostage.

Maybe even the streets of Barcelona becoming over-run with a million angry rioters.

These things I can understand; there's logic and necessity there. A real need for this dramatic action; as a matter of national security or because peoples lives are at stake.

But I mean, this amount of conflict and hostility all because V used some of Evey's £80 10ml, Made by Blind Puruvian Monks in Tree-Top Huts, Diamond Enhanced, Anti-Wrinkle, Anti-UVA, Taiwanese Pink Seaweed and Bali Soothing Dirt Free Mud Moisturizer as a polishing agent for his boots, is just a little uncalled for I think."


	8. Chapter 8

Ode to Erik

Dress-Up

"He he he! Oh I have never laughed so much in all my centuries in existence! I've seen knights fall from horses into mud, watched jesters trip on their balls, even witnessed monkeys from the East doing dancing tricks. But nothing compares to this! I truly believed my armour was going to come part! That was until i saw what was in store for me...i suddenly stopped laughing.

Well, just the other day, little Miss Hammond decided that it was about high time she got out a bit more, took more fresh air and the like. That she was bored and wanted to get out and enjoy the outside world. She explained she wanted to go upstairs and do a spot of shopping in fact.

The cad in the wig was very apprehensive of this and insisted on arming her to the teeth with many many concealed weapons; poor dear child weighed down with all that gubbins and steel! However, after many hours explaining to Evey what to do in every eventuality and exactly where to stick these blades, she was ready to go and off she trotted! Out the door as fancy as you please in her sunglasses and with her little hand bag.

Well. I tell you.

She was gone hours, literally hours. She left at ten in the morning and didn't return till at least five in the afternoon (what she was doing is still a mystery, even to me!) Oh the cad was not best pleased. Pacing about all the while she was gone, I'm surprised he didn't wear holes in the rugs and grooves in the stone flagswith all his darting about!

He tried to read a book, Plato's The Republic in fact. But for the first time failed through lack of concentration instead of sheer stupidity and confusion, and the poorbook ended up on the other side of the gallery.

He threw a tantrum when he tried to cook Evey some cheese straws; resulting in burnt fingers, a cheddar splattered mask and a singed wig (they eventually ended up on the floor being stamped upon.)

He attempted to play some music on the piano, but flew into a blind rage when some of the keys broke, because he was hitting them far too hard. That was abandoned swiftly.

Yes he even turned his unwanted attention upon me. Swishing his foil about wildly and calling me 'his fat metal friend'. Rather rude I might add, as I wouldn't say I was fat. But anyway, I lost both my arms as a result.

But eventually the little seraph returned triumphantly. She waltzed in as happy as can be, huge smile radiating from that beautiful little face. In her arms she had so many bags, more than I have ever seen in my life!

The fop's immediate reaction was one of concern and anger that she had been so long. He bombarded her with questions. Where you followed? Did you run into any Fingermen? Where you okay? Did you use your knives? Etc etc.

And then he caught sight of the bags.

I think he nearly passed out when Evey told him how much she had spent. I swear that expression on his mask changed to a look of utter despair! But I think his heart actually stopped beating when she confessed to him she had 'borrowed' his card to buy it all when she couldn't find hers. But she whined and cried as she explained she needed that third pink hand bag and she just couldn't live without another pretty necklace and that she simply had to have another shimmery eye shadow as fifteen isn't enough. Then she smiled sweetly, batted her big eyelashes, twirled her fingers in her hair and told him it was okay because she had bought him a gift too. That crafty little minx…

She ferreted through her many bags and finally came upon one that had definitely come from a male orientated shop. The cad, by this point, was very eager to know more and had apparently forgotten that the cheeky girl before him had spent an amount of money comparable to Ecuador's annual budget in less than eight hours.

She also explained that I needed 'jazzing up' as she put it, and that I had a gift too! I became extremely excited. A gift? For me? For dear old Erik? I've never had a gift bought for me ever! What could it be I wondered?

New gauntlets?

Grieves polish?

A feather for my helmet?

The possibilities were endless. I could barely contain myself!

Evey handed the cad the bag and told him to go to his room and try on his gift, and that she wanted to see it once it was on. In the meantime, she explained, she would bestow my gift upon me while he was getting changed. So off the cad skipped, giggling like a spoilt child and I stood proud and true ready to receive my very first gift!

----------

After a while, Evey clapped in apparent unrivalled delight as she looked us both up and down. She was beaming.

When I came into his view and he gingerly into mine, we exchanged glances and both had the exact same thought. This was _not_ expected…she _really_ didn't have to…

I knew he did not appreciate his new itchy tweed blazer and matching trilby.

He knew I did not appreciate my new pink, sparkly feather boa."


	9. Chapter 9

**_A/N: Just a thank you to you all for such lovely reviews, they're so nice to read; glad you all like this fic so much! _**

Ode to Erik

Things A Man Should Never Read

"Ah ha!

I caught him red handed! There's no way he can back out of this one now, I saw him! Plain as day and as brash as you please! Brazenly and without shame, there…on the couch…I watched him! He always denies it, but now I know the truth. I now the true reality of what V does when Evey is not about! A man of his age; and to think he ought to know better! Anyway, this serves him right.

After a hard day of blowing up important buildings, slaying vicious Fingermen, frantically polishing boots and battling ferociously with me, my harlequin friend has found a novel new way to relax and unwind. A way of chilling out and allowing his mind to wander to lesser things. A brilliant way of loosening up and permitting himself to drift away from his many worries.

He came just in the other day after an undoubtedly stressful afternoon; took off his boots, hung up his cloak, straightened his wig and looked about.

He was alone. Completely alone in utter silence. (Where Evey was I cannot sadly recall, but he was definitely alone.)

There was nothing to be done, at all. The dishes were cleaned and put away. The laundry was ironed and hung back in the wardrobes. The rugs and floor had been swept. I had been dusted and polished (a bit over due mind…) Everything was clean and sparkling.

My masked master decided to make himself a nice cup of tea. A china cup and saucer, circular flat tea-bag, a little milk, one small sugar, five stirs clock-wise, five stirs anti-clockwise and a chocolate hobnob or two (just as he likes it.)

He seated himself in front of the television and began to flick through the many channels.

_Powerpuff Girls. Definitely no thank you._

_Who Wants To Be A Millionaire? Tempting but not today._

_Jamie Oliver: Cooking with Fish? Mmmm, well this looks interesting…but I really don't fancy burning myself again…_

_Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Oh…I like her knives, wonder where she got them from?_

_Jerry Springer:" I married my aunts goat"? Oh sweet Christ…_

The television went swiftly off again. The cad began tapping his gloved fingers on the arm of the couch, boredom becoming apparent. I began to cringe and try to make myself small and unnoticed, as I felt sure such ennui would result in a direct and vicious assault upon my person. But to my pleasant surprise, it didn't! He began to glance around and something alien caught his eye!

All of a sudden, a magazine appeared in his hands! But not one that I could say would interest a regular man, or indeed myself. Not his usual comics he dug out and fawned over when Evey wasn't around.

A copy of November Cosmopolitan, obviously Evey's, with a rather ravishing photograph of some young nymph adorning the cover. (His greed little eyes lingered on the scantily clad beauty just a little too long I think.)

"What is this tripe?" He said aloud. I tried to offer a reply but was ignored rudely.

He thumbed through the pages, tilting his head in total confusion. He could have put the magazine down and just walked away, but no, he carried on reading didn't he? Fool. Poor bloody fool; just didn't see it coming. Rabbit and headlights really do spring to mind right about now. I think he gained more insight into the female mind in those two minutes than he ever has or ever will do! Yes, he had picked up November Cosmopolitan, but not a regular copy oh no. It just happened to be a special sex issue.

_Take Our Quiz To Uncover Your Sexual Destiny: Heavens!_

_Viabrators; Tried & Tested Just For Your Pleasure: Mercy me…_

_Holiday Sexual Confessions: Is this what women get up to!_

_The G-Spot Is Soooo Last Year: Oh…_

_101 Ways To Spice Up The Missionary Position: Sweet Jesus!_

I could feel the heat radiating from him! Each page just seemed to get worse and worse.

Until he turned to page 204, complete with pictures. He held the magazine out in front of him. Concentrating hard on the pictures, he rotated it to the right, then to the left, upside down, every which way. He looked truly perplexed, so baffled. He just couldn't fathom the pictures out. They finally became clear when he caught a glimpse of the page title…

_Twenty position to make your man moan: OH DEAR LORD…_

But the crowning glory of this lesson had to be on page 316, problem page. I could swear his eyes just widened as he read it.

_I Want To Sleep With My Flatmate…What Now! _

Just as he finished reading the title (and recoiling in utter horror,) Evey popped her head through the door and came in a flurry of commotion. He flung the magazine away from him, underneath the couch and stood to greet her, but not before she exclaimed…

"Wow V! You look really hot today……."


	10. Chapter 10

Ode to Erik

You Are NOT Jamie Oliver

"Well it seems that the stupid harlequin just has not learnt his lesson. He simply does not know when to call it a day and give up on a bad job. He insists on tempting fate doesn't he? He knows that he's useless, so why bloody bother?

He has been stalking about for a few hours now, just mopping; pretending to dust around, fake reading of books, falsely polishing his boots. All the while, dear little Evey just sits reading some book quietly. Poor girl, I can see her fidgeting nervously, he's making her worried…prat!

After what must have been hours now of this mooching about, the daring child forces a confession from him. Telling him has been hanging around for hours and that he obviously wants something, so he should get some balls and just ask her whatever it is he wants to ask.

With a most horrified gasp, he finally relents and plucks up enough courage to ask her to dinner, here in the Shadow Gallery.

Poor poor girl, what a mistake.

She accepts.

The cad does some type of little jig, hopping about like a man possessed, then promptly tells her to be ready for seven o' clock sharp and he will escort her from her room. Evey disappears into her room somewhere and the fop slides away and out of the door.

(Now this is the bit that really makes me wonder why he bothers any more.)

After about an hour or so, he masked buffoon reappears with armfuls of bags of shopping; must have cost a small fortune! He begins to unpack and out come an array of culinary delights. If I had a mouth, it would be watering I can tell you!

Fresh monkfish. Fois gras. Spears of asparagus. Fresh Italian tortellini. Crunchy leaves of spinach. Basil. Quails eggs. Caviar. Scottish smoked salmon. Spanish cantaloupes. English strawberries. Devon clotted cream. Finest filet of beef. Succulent papayas. Ripe mangos. Tender venison strips. Butternut squash. Juicy elderberries. Chilled champagne. King tiger prawns. Herb infused risotto.

So many delightful and delectable ingredients, surely this was to be a feast fit for kings!

He dug out a plethora of unused cookbooks from lofty cupboards; ranging from How To Cook Fish to Cooking For Dinner Parties. He dusted them down and plonked them in front of him proud as punch. The fop began to pour over the spectacular recipes. He began muttering to himself: _what to make?_ Such a quandary for such an 'intellectual' man…

_Maybe flamed grilled filet mignon, with rich peppercorn sauce and sautéed potatoes? Hmmm…_

_How about quails eggs with steamed asparagus spears and a fresh basil salad? Might be nice…_

_Possibly smoked salmon in a white wine sauce, on a bed of boiled spinach and tomato ricotta? Tempting…_

_What about boiled avocado, fresh mozzarella, plum tomato and basil soup? Oh I don't know…_

The possibilities were truly endless; he was bewildered and befuddled, scratching his confused head. Where would he start? Then the realization set in…

_What would the young lady like? _

_What should I make? _

_Oh god, how do I turn the oven on?_

_What does 'julienne' mean?_

_How do you cook beef?_

_Is lettuce meant to be raw?_

_Eww, what is that thing on top of the strawberry?_

_Is that thing meant to make that noise?_

Come on man, get a hold of yourself! You've slain Fingermen. Blown up state buildings. Learnt Shakespeare word for word! This is a breeze, you can cook a meal for her no problems! What sort of man are you? Give me a pot, a pan and a few ingredients and I'd cook such a sumptuous meal, she wouldn't believe!

An hour later he began to cook.

Dear Jesus.

The noises. The smells. The screams. The injuries…

I shuddered with fear.

--------------------

When Evey emerged from her room at seven o' clock on the dot; she was a vision. Dressed in a beautiful black knee-length wrap dress, hair loosely tied back, a little red lip-stick. She looked stunning; my soft spot for her grew even more! (I think she was a little disappointed that her escort never arrived.)

She seated herself at the specially laid table; admiring the roses he had set out, her face illuminated by the candles dotted around. She fingered the velvet table-cloth and smiled. The cad had used his best china and cutlery…bloody show-off.

She took a sip of champagne and waited for her chef to arrive. What would it be? She mused, expecting something out of this world!

(But she swore just heard the microwave ping…)

Within a few minutes, the fool arrived. With two plates in hand covered by silver lids. He set them down on the table and sheepishly joined her. She commented that everything looked amazing; the roses, the candles, that everything was perfect.

(He just scratched the back of his neck nervously, trying to discreetly wipe away the stains on his mask and tunic.)

(She did wonder though, what that dirty stain on his sleeve was. _Is that…no it can't be_…)

She also commented on how excited she was to see what her hero had cooked for her. A proper little Jamie Oliver aren't we V? She was beaming with pride…

Imagine her disappointment when she lifted the silver lid, only to discover…beans on toast.

He spent hours slaving over a hot stove and then the penny finally dropped for her.

This man _really cannot cook_."


	11. Chapter 11

**_Yoda…it is done, a version immortalised in words. A gift, for you!_**

Ode to Erik

V For Voyeur

"Bloody eyes everywhere in this gallery! Everywhere you turn there are thousands of eyes! Painted eyes, stone eyes, carved eyes, granite eyes, oil eyes; all types! Watching every move you make, every breath, every turn…oh I don't know!

But no eyes half so observant as the depraved peeping tom that creeps around this stone palace! Bloody pervert. I should have guessed why was I so blind? A man that spends his time dressed in a wig, a mask and a cloak pretending to be a dead terrorist? Stalking about, playing with knives? Yes, I really should have known better.

Closet pervert of the first degree.

I am living with a sexual deviant.

(Maybe the Cosmo magazine thing set him off?) I know this now due to his actions earlier this morning.

Evey had indulged herself in one of her usual hour long marathon showers, (bloody wallpaper is pealing with all that steam I tell you…) She did as she always does; left the bathroom, entered the bedroom and closed the door.

Now V knows this little routine of hers, he has observed her time and time again making the same little journey to her room. Usually he is in the kitchen trying and failing to bake, or watching a boring film; maybe polishing his stupid knives or perhaps stabbing me. But today he was behaving quite peculiar, quite different. He was lurking about in the television room, darting about in the shadows. Twiddling his thumbs, breathing rather heavily, hoping Evey wouldn't spot him. I didn't pay too much attention to this as the pervert has many strange habits, ones I tend to turn a blind eye to.

But after Evey had vacated the bathroom and closed her bedroom door, hair in turban, the cad appeared from the shadows and began to pace about. He was muttering furiously to himself, seemingly in some type of internal conflict. Possibly planning something; a surprise, an attack, an ambush maybe? It was of no concern to me. I thought it best I leave him to his weirdness. So again, I ignored him; as I explained, he does act very bizarrely sometimes.

After a few more moments of this frantic pacing about, the harlequin strode towards Eveys door.

To my horror I realised what he was about to do! I tried to stop him, to yell to Evey that the peeping tom approached her nakedness, but as usual my cries fell on deaf ears! The fiend! The brute! The utter deviant! So this is what he was planning and muttering to himself?

As brash as you please, with no regard for the girl behind the door, he entered the poor child's bedroom!

A short scream ensued and much yelling for him to get out. The pervert stumbled out again, closing the door behind him. He took a few steps away, raised his hands to his face and began giggling to himself like a little girl. I then heard him mutter…

"He he he…I just saw her boobie!"

I simply stood in what I imagined would be more shock than Evey. In total disbelief. Until it dawned upon me. I began to comprehend it. Realisation set in.

Yes. It is true.

He planned it.

He's a pervert.

I am living with a peeping tom."


	12. Chapter 12

Ode to Erik

Avoid The Drafts

"I found myself in rather a quandary earlier today. Difficult to say how it came about exactly; but it was a quandary none the less. It didn't hurt or anything, just a little uncomfortable really. It was, how shall I put it gracefully, an inconvenience at the least.

Being old you see, (I hate to admit that) it's best that I avoid drafts that get into my joints, or water that causes rust, or anything that causes general discomfort. I'm not high maintenance; just a spot of oil on my visor, a quick dust over my gauntlets and a dash of attention every now and again; preferably not from the harlequin though, we all know where that leads to.

The attention aspect of my existence can cause problems sometimes. If it isn't attention from the cad, or Venus or that hissing head, the attention comes from sweet Miss Hammond. So dear readers, that wherein is where my quandary lies.

When the masked fiend left for the night to commit his foulness upstairs, I was left in the company of little Evey. Now I am not one to complain if this scenario arises, we get on like a dream. She toddles about the place, and I keep a watch eye on her. She watches television, and I watch silently too. She bakes biscuits, and I enjoy the homely smell. It's a win-win situation.

But I shall keep a far warier eye on her now I can tell you! I have to admit, my watchful eye did close for a very short while as I enjoyed a quick nap (I am _very_ old you realise.)

I shall not be making that mistake again.

I was awoken rather rudely from my delicious metallic slumber, by something rather sharp and pointy jabbing into my neck. Naturally I came to my senses expecting to see the cad wanting to engage in some battle and much exchanging of blows. So I braced myself and made ready for the dual. Only when I opened my eyes, instead of seeing a six foot odd buffoon in a mask before me, I saw nothing! This alarmed me some what.

Was I dreaming?

Was madness finally beginning to settle in after all these long years?

No I wasn't going mad because I felt it again! That pointy little thing most ill-mannered, how rude. I glanced down to ascertain where this attack was coming from to have my eyes shocked beyond belief by what I saw.

Little Miss Hammond none the less!

Just stood there, proud as you please with the foil in my throat! The bloody thing was almost as tall as she is! I didn't know whether to laugh, cry or to be truly worried (I've witnessed the extent of her rages…)

After taking a moment to assess her stance, posture and the way she was holding the foil, I decided not to be too concerned. She looked very shaky, off balance too, lacking confidence. (I've fought against professionals; I know how this is done!) Also, the daft grin on her face did not lend itself to any menace, so I was not nervous. I concluded that she would take a few swishes, prod me a bit, then get bored and bugger off.

How wrong could I have been?

What followed next could be described as Machiavellian.

She launched into an attack so vicious I cannot fully put it into words. An assault to such an extent that it has left me physically and mentally scarred. Suffice to say that this abuse continued for quite sometime, the blows reigning down upon my person with great ferocity and gusto! Who knew that such a delicate little creature could harbour such strength and aggression? (She's been around that bloody harlequin too long.)

She let go all her pent up rage and then some! Like a vicious little animal she was; hacking and stabbing at me far worse than the harlequin. When he does it, it comes across as graceful and looks poetic. This was just sheer carnage and raw aggression!

But the crowning moment of Eveys attack came when the foil became lodged firmly in my arm. Oh she tried and tried to pull it out but it wouldn't budge. I tried to tell her to get the oil but she just wasn't listening. The effort involved much huffing, pulling and a few profanities to boot, but still no joy. I think she was worried she would get into bother with that cad for messing around with his things, so she carried on trying to free the foil.

It took the best part of fifteen minutes. However, in one final attempt she gave an almighty tug and it came free, she danced about with glee. But she had started something both of us were powerless to stop.

As soon as the foil was removed I knew something was a miss. A small component sprung from my arm and bounced to the floor. I began to shake and quiver; and I knew what was coming next. Evey took a step back; the expression on her face said it all.

Oh shit….

In one almighty rumble, I fell to pieces! The noise was deafening! Yes my greaves tumbled to the floor, my cuirasses plummeted from me, my vambraces dropped and my gauntlets were lost to me. Metal everywhere! I was scattered in a thousand parts all over the gallery floor, most undignified! My head even rolled under the couch somewhere!

Eveys attempts to put me back together were less than successful' I think she got a left leg and a right foot together before she became distracted by the copy of Spiderman number twenty-five that bounced out of my left leg. She trotted off to read about Doctor Octopus, while leaving me spread about the gallery floor like nothing ever happened!

Women. Never in my life have I been so mistreated.

I spent a very uncomfortable afternoon and an even worse night on the floor. All those drafts; got right into my breast plates they did. Evey even kicked me about a few times, inadvertently of course…I hope! Suffice to say I stayed like that until the cad (my new saviour) came home the following morning and put me back together again.

It took him a while I must say, over two hours (we suits of armour are complicated things you know!)

I have suddenly developed a new found respect for the cad; not too much but enough. As for Miss Hammond; well I shall be keeping a watchful eye upon her from now on, bloody nutter.

Alas all is not perfect and rosy.

I only have one problem; one which out of my new found respect, I dare not raise with the fop.

My head is on back to front."


	13. Chapter 13

Ode to Erik

Memorising Things…

"What is that prat doing?

He pranced about making a huge effort to get all these books. Dancing about like his world is about to end, and now he's sat as still as a statue! Where does he get his energy? What is wrong with this man?

He's been hunched over those books for hours now, and quite frankly I want to know what devilment he's up to! I'm not sure if I trust him…

He's been in that corner for ages now, fawning over something. It must be bloody special if it's caught his attention this long!

No doubt planning some evil plot or fiendish scheme for upstairs. Probably involving a shed load of knives and an assortment of explosives!

I can't quite see what he's up to. But it looks suspicious…

Hang on….he's muttering something……it's not making any sense….

_Voilà! In view, a humble vaudevillian versant…**no that's not right**…_

_However, this valorous visitation of a by-gone verisimilitude….**no, no, NO!**_

_The only veduta is vengeance; a vaccary….**oh god**_

_Vowed to vanquish these ventricumbent and virulent vermin van-guarding vice and versicoloured the violently violatic and voracious violation of voivode….**surely there's an easier way? **_

_Verily, this vichyssoise of velate veers most vaginate, so let me simply add that it is my very good honour to meet you and you may call me Tom, I mean V……**oh shit!**_

_However, this_ _verticillated_ _visitation of a by-gone venography…..**GOD DAMN IT!**_

Yes dear readers, it's going to be a long, long, long night in the Shadow Gallery……."


	14. Chapter 14

Ode to Erik

Laundry Day In The Shadow Gallery

"Well, as the title of this little observation suggests, yesterday was indeed laundry day in the Shadow Gallery.

A joyous occasion where at the end of laundry day, instead of crawling into bed with sheets that resemble the Turin Shroud, one can enjoy crisp, clean linen. Where one can dry their weary body on the fluffiest of white towels, rather than the three day towel one left on the bathroom floor in a damp heap. Where one can once again wear that attractive red lacy negligee, instead of the grey, hole infested end-of-week desperation knickers.

Yes, laundry day is indeed an exciting day for all.

The day begins as all laundry days do. The cad dashing about his room; collecting all his dirty clothing into a huge wicker laundry basket. He then goes on to separate said items into whites and darks (this doesn't take long for his clothing.)

All the while he is jollying along dear little Evey to hurry up and give him her clothes that need washing. Sure enough she eventually trots out of her room with a pile so large, she can barely see over the top of it. It contains clothing in every colour of the rainbow. Pink t-shirts, blue jeans, yellow vests, green jumpers, what look like red eye-patches but are indeed red underwear…allsorts.

Then the harlequin takes a while to separate all Evey's clothing. He mutters to himself as he does it…

_Can white go with off-beige?_

_Is duck-egg blue the same as turquoise? _

_Does hand-wash only really mean hand-wash only?_

_What's the difference between city shorts and hot pants?_

_Where the hell do I take a dry-clean thong too?_

Yes the myriad of problems is truly never ending, but he muddles his way through the best he can. He then fumbles about foolishly with the bed sheets, pillow cases, duvet covers, towels and other such items, occasionally tripping over them as he hauls them to the laundry room.

In all the items go, on a nice and easy hour wash. (I doubt he knows exactly what to do with some of these items of clothing, but at least they're separated into piles of darks and whites.) _If in doubt, stick it on a forty degree wash and everyone wins,_ is his philosophy on laundry.

So off the washing machine goes; possibly the noisiest piece of machinery I have ever heard or ever invented. One touch of a button and the machine is on its merry way; trundling downs the runway, preparing to take off for a return flight from Gatwick Airport to Malaga International.

So after the hour washing cycle is done and the passengers and cabin crew have safely disembarked the Hotpoint 747, the fop decides to take out his lovely clean clothing and pop them in the dryer.

When all the items are nice and dry, they are immediately ironed and replaced into wardrobes and drawers, or onto beds and pillows. Perfect. Everything runs like clock work.

--------------------

Now yesterday was a little different. Usually the cad is very protective about the laundry; I'm guessing he likes it just so. He insists on collecting his own clothing, putting it in the washing machine and the dryer himself, removing it from said machine and the ironing it himself too. Very, very strange, but I will allow him his foibles.

As I was saying, yesterday was different however.

Inadvertently, the harlequin had gone out on one of his weird upstairs jaunts and had indeed left the dryer on. As usual the machine beeped to let him know that it had performed its duty and that it was ready for the next batch of damp clothing. But instead of being greeted by its foolish masked master, the dryer was met by sweet little Evey.

Naturally wanting to help the cad and to lighten his burden, she emptied the dryer and set about getting ready to do some ironing. Out came the iron, the iron board and on went the chariot hero Ben Hurr onto the DVD player (to stave of boredom I imagine.) She had quite a pile of clothing, most of it his; but none the less, unfazed she got stuck in.

She ironed his black tunics beautifully.

Starched his black shirts perfectly.

Levelled out his black trousers amazingly.

She even tended to his multitude of black socks; matching each one with its right or left partner.

Finally she had got to the bottom of the basket, down to the last few items of clothing. The end was indeed in sight! I watched as she leant over deep into the recesses of the basket to fish out his last few pieces of un-ironed clothes.

But then, she began to giggle! Began snickering like a little girl. The corners of her mouth turning upwards as the titter became a chuckle. As the chuckle became a laugh. As the laugh became a belly roar! Until her head was thrown back in complete hysteria!

What could be so amusing? What could have captivated her so much that she was at the pointing of wetting herself in delight? What on earth was she laughing at?

Slowly she stood up, her shoulders shaking with laughter. She turned to me, tears streaming down her face as she cracked up even more.

Oh yes, then I joined in. I began to laugh! Chuckled so hard that I really thought I might fall to pieces again! But I couldn't help it, nor did I want to! This was too amusing to miss! I'm sure my helmet began to shake with the ferocity of my giggling! Now we know just why he is so protective over the laundry!

The terrorist. The radical.

The saviour of London. The murderer.

The revolutionary. The vigilante

The beacon of light in an otherwise dark world.

The one who shadows his life in mystery and quotes...

The one who wears white boxer shorts adorned with big red love hearts!"


	15. Chapter 15

Ode to Erik

The Perils Of Dessert

"Oh dear god!

I think I should yell for help. Possibly shout for someone. Maybe even attempt to call an ambulance, or 999 or something! We need some professional help here!

There's an acrid smelling smoke coming from the kitchen, and it's getting worse! God it's choking me!

_SOMEONE GET SOME WATER! _Why won't they listen to me! The galleries on fire!

Oh lordy! What the devil is happening in there! Oh I wish I could move!

Oh no, what was that noise? A scream!

It sounded high pitched, like a girl. It's not Evey is it? Is _she_ in the kitchen? She could be burning alive and I'm powerless to help……

DAMN THIS USELESS METAL BODY! God I hope she's okay, poor sweet creature.

Hang on…what's tha…what's that sound?

Someone moving about…someone shuffling. They're coming out of the kitchen. I can see a figure! Thank god, I so hope Evey's alright!

--------------------

(15 Minutes Later...)

That god damn idiot. You absolute imbecile.

Oh he makes my blood boil! You wait until our next dual, I'll give him what for!

It serves the utter prat right. He deserves a singed wig, deserves the burnt clothes and scalded fingers. And i hope it bloody hurt as well!

If I ever catch him trying to flambé strawberries again I'm gonna shoot him…"


	16. Chapter 16

Ode to Erik

Erik's Modern Adventure

(Part One)

"Dear readers gather around, I am going to tell you a tale that will make you gasp in shock and recoil in total disbelief. I know some of you will struggle to comprehend what I am telling you, but you must believe what I say. I am a noble suit of armour, metal of my word and I do not lie!

This tale is both treacherous and fantastical to say the least, but it happened!

Yes my friends…it happened to me…your dear old Erik!

I shall begin as all good stories do…from the very beginning. Skimp on detail I shall not, you shall know all the gory details as vivid as the day they happened as this is by far the most exciting thing that has happened to poor old Erik in the last two hundred years!"

-------------------

"It was a normal day in the Shadow Gallery, nothing spectacular at all.

Venus was babbling incoherently with the hissing head thing about the merits of granite versus stone. The other various females in the gallery were doing what they do best; cat calling and sniping at Evey. The Wurlitzer was playing a dull song that no one was listening to.

Overall, a day pretty much the same as any other day.

I had spent most of my time drifting aimlessly in and out of a most delightful sleep and an even more delicious dream. I was very comfortable and the atmosphere was just so temperate that I could not help but doze off every now and again, I am very old so I can be forgiven the occasional snooze!

Evey had been sat quietly in the television room, curled up reading some dusty old tome about Thomas Aquinas she had ferreted from a hidden cupboard and sipping on a cup of tea. She was just minding her own business and looking as perfect and innocent as usual.

The harlequin had disappeared earlier that morning in rather a hurry, announcing that he had a special jaunt to carry out and that he would not be back for a day or two. (What he does that involves staying away for so long I'll never know!) In a swirl of his cloak and a tip of his hat, the fool dashed out of the door….tripping over his feet as he went.

But no sooner had he closed the door, did Evey give a shifty look about then jump up from the couch like a crazed jack-in-a-box; discarding her book in a most undignified manor onto the floor! She sprinted away into her room for a few moments, clattering about wildly and creating quite a commotion. When she finally returned, she was carrying a large cardboard box. I was most perplexed, a little confused even. What did she want with that box? And a big box at that!

To my surprise (and momentary delight) she came and placed the boxes next to me. Most excited I was, just to be near this wonderful little creature! I thought she might be playing some new game she had invented, or maybe she would polish me again! The possibilities were endless and most wonderful!

She stalked about me for a moment, possibly about to begin our game, maybe deciding where to begin polishing first.

But no.

The look in her eyes was demonic and what she did next took my breath away. It was incomprehensible. I couldn't believe what was happening! It was the last thing I expected!

Needless to say, my joy was short lived. Most definitely not a treat of any sort.

I deduced this when in a very rushed manor and much to my dismay, she began to dismantle me! To my horror, she was taking me apart bit by bit! Just tugging at me, pulling me in every direction, trying to loosen my various parts! We suits of armour are delicate things; we need love and a tender touch, not some demented girl tearing at us in a fit of delirium!

_What are you doing woman? Haven't you had enough of destroying me yet? Do you know how long I take to put back together?_I yelled with no success what so ever.

I thought maybe she was going to move me? Maybe she had had enough of seeing me in the same old spot, so she had decided to shift me to somewhere more acceptable. Or maybe she was having a momentary fit of madness, for which the cure was my destruction then immediate rebuilding. That I was prepared to forgive…but the next acts I am not.

Rather crudely and with no concern for my feelings or emotions, she tore off my helmet…into the box. She chucked my greaves…into the box. My breastplates followed suit…into the box. My gauntlets flew…into the box. Until every single bolt and bit was in a bloody box. I sustained so many bumps, knocks and bruises it is quite extraordinary! My poor head will never be the same again!

Aside from being extremely uncomfortable (it's not nice to be sat on your hand for long periods of time) I was beginning to grow concerned. This was a most unorthodox fashion in which I ought to be cleaned; so I decided that this was indeed not a top to toe polish…this was something else. Something much worse….

She dusted her little hands down and grinned manically, leaving me in the box most rudely and ran to grab her jacket. She had difficulty in lifting the box at first (as much asI hate to admit it...I am a heavy chap!) She was grunting and breathing profanities to herself; but in the end I think she got the hang of it, because in no time at all, we were trotting over to the front door and i heard the rattle of keys.

It was in this instant, at this moment that the full horror of the situation dawned upon me. It hit me like a ton of bricks to the head. This was no game. No exercise to polish me. Not even a reshuffle of the Shadow Gallery so that things might look different. No this was way beyond any of that.

If I could have criedI thinkI would have shed a tear or two. What was she doing with me? Where was she taking me? What had i done wrong? I've behaved, I've never made a sound or misbehaved! Was she getting rid of me? Getting rid of her dear old Erik? The one that silently adored her so much? What ever my questions were, they were soon to be answered. She was taking me outside.

Erik was going upstairs…"


	17. Chapter 17

Ode to Erik

Erik's Modern Adventure

(Part Two)

"Well dear readers, I thank you for your patience! You see this is quite a tale, and old Erik needed a break there! I shall resume my tale with much gusto! "

-------------------

"Well I must say, even if I was stuffed into a box, it was very pleasant to finally escape the dusty confines of the gallery after all these years! The sun was shining, the sky was blue and the air was fresh! Ahhh…sent a shiver down my gauntlets it did, felt truly amazing!

But I must comment; never in all my life (and it is a long one so far) have I been more baffled and perplexed! After I had finished enjoying the rather clement weather, my attentions were turned else where! I have seen it all now, quite unbelievable! Things have changed a damn sight since my day I can assure you! The things I have seen are incredible! Even from my new mobile cardboard abode, I could see all the new world has to offer!

So many strange and wonderful things I have not encountered before! Like these huge brightly coloured metal frames on wheels that people sit in, how do they move without horses! And the tall glass castles that reach all the way up to the clouds, why do they not fall over! And men dressed in black just like the cad, carrying small black boxes about, and talking into tiny boxes placed at their ears!

Animals roaming the streets on the end of bits of rope that people hold. Everywhere, little pieces of plastic in peoples ears that produce a tinny sort of music! People drinking and eating such bizarre, unheard of foods such as pretzels, hot-dogs and lattes! A hot-dog? Eating a _hot-dog_? That's barbaric that is, poor little creature! And what on Gods good earth is a latte!

Signs, signs everywhere, in every window.

_Buy One Get One Free!_

_Two For One!_

_Open 24/7_

Well if the shop is open all day, all week, then when does the shop attendant go to sleep? And what do you get free when you buy one? One of what exactly?

And so many shops selling so many things I have never even heard of!

_Artificial Intelligence Toys?_

_Bananas? Kiwis?_

_Saucy Lingerie?_

What is a kiwi? And what the devil does saucy mean? Saucy like tomato ketchup is a sauce? And why would you want to linger around it?

And I must say, people dress very differently now! The men all wearing black suits, or some sort of blue material on their legs. Some with bizarre hats, others with pieces of glass covering their eyes, some with bags stuck to their backs! And the ladies? Well I never, very revealing I tell you! Some wearing skirts that come above the ankle! And wearing tops that reveal nearly all the breast! Very extraordinary designs and weird items of clothing! Totally unacceptable in my day!

Things have changed drastically upstairs. The whole world seems a granite playground, everything covered in stone and grey. With people eccentric bizarre clothes and using all manor of machines to assist their living. My helmet should have been spinning with all this information and all these new sights! Very strange, ohhh how things have changed! I feel there is no room for my sort any more; in a way makes me glad that I have a home in the Shadow Gallery, even if it is with that ridiculous cad!

(Anyway, back to my tale!)

After much admiring of this outlandish new world, I remembered what was happening and tried to concentrate my attentions to the direction of exactly where this little madam was taking me. Of course I do not know exactly where I was as things have changed a lot since my days; so many complicated signs I do not understand, not as simple anymore. Signs such as:

_No Parking_ or

_One Way Only_ and

_Pay & Display _or

_Pedestrians Only_

How do the people of London understand such rules? What is _One Way_? _One Way_ where? There are lots of ways a fellow can take, not just one! And _Pay & Display_? Pay to display what exactly! _No Parking_? Then where the devil does your horse go!

Anyway, after what seemed like much walking, many right turns, a few left turns and a couple of wrong exits, we arrived at what I assumed was our destination. There were some very smart looking people loitering about outside, dressed in immaculate suits, all talking and guffawing rather loudly! This must be important I thought; if dear old Erik is being brought here! Perhaps for a super special clean so I really shine? Or maybe to have my many dints caused by the idiot finally bashed out! Or maybe to have a fancy new set of breast plates added.

The place was a very fancy building, and very old looking, but quite beautiful. In the big bay window, lots of vases, china, furniture and other old and beautiful looking things. Lots of pretty plants and ivy outside, and a very fancy looking gold sign. Although I did not understand what the sign meant, it was very pretty, and with such a long fancy name, I deduced I must be in for a treat! The sign read as follows…

SOTHEBYS AUCTION HOUSE

FOUNDED 1774

I understood the 1774 bit, fantastic year, fond memories it gave me! Such laughs back then! Yes, this was definitely the place for me if it was dealing with things from that period in time! Possibly a reunion with some old friends? Maybe Frederick and Boderick, now that would be a fantastic surprise!What ever it was, I was sure I was in for a very _very_ special treat…"


	18. Chapter 18

Ode to Erik

Erik's Modern Adventure

(Part Three)

"Once again dear reader, I thank you for being so utterly patient while old Erik had a little kip. Getting old I tell you, it has no ups…only downs! Anyway my friends, back to the tale in hand!"

---------------------

"Well, never in my life have I seen so many weird and wonderful things! From floor to ceiling, from left to right; things, objects everywhere. Ranging from the minute to the enormous, the ordinary to the extraordinary. Sotheby's must be a home for all things old and beautiful! Items from every corner of the world, objects of every origin!

The walls filled with canvass pictures and oil masterpieces. Upon the floor, sculptures of smooth granite, tables of ornate wood carvings, a thousand musical instruments. Glass cabinets crammed full of decadent jewellery, tall alabaster jars and delicate china bits. I felt a little dwarfed by the grandeur of some of these items, some far more kingly than I!

I deduced that this must be an establishment for the restoration of all things that have been around for quite some time! The items in here looking very spiffing; astoundingly clean and well presented, all undoubtedly well cared for!

Yes dear old Erik was in the right place. The sweet little angel had brought me for the best spit and polish of my life! Hopefully, they would also bash out these blasted dints that have plagued my person for what seems an eternity. That damned cad, must he insist on thrashing me and causing all these unsightly marks?

Would this hurt? Would the removal of the dents cause me much discomfort? Would I once again look as I did in my youth, shiny and handsome like so many decades ago? So many questions needing an answer; surely they would come soon! As I ponder the whys and the wherefores of this impending undertaking, a rather squat looking little man approached us. Judging by Eveys smile and warm hand shake, this man was to be trusted, so I felt a little more relaxed. They engaged in a fast and short conversation, one I did not keep up with very well. All I knew was that I was being taken into a separate room, probably for my reviving to begin!

Upon my arrival in this new room a sight that I thought I should never see again greeted me! A true sight for sore eyes, I could not believe my luck! Erik's dreams had been realised, my prayers answered after so long! This angel, this seraph. Not only had see brought me for a full restoration, she had arranged a reunion between myself and a couple of old chums! If I could cry, I'm sure a tear would have been shed!

I cast my eyes over my two oldest friends, Frederick the Noble and Boderick the Brave! There they were; standing tall and true, just as they always had! I have to admit, I was a little ashamed that their first view of me in over a hundred and fifty years was one of me stuffed rather indignantly into a cardboard box. But never mind, such trivial things go unnoticed between close friends!

They looked amazing! Buffed to a high shine, no dints, no marks, perfect feathers in their helmets. Their gauntlets shone, their vambraces gleamed and their breastplates…well I had not known envy till I cast my greedy gaze upon them! Magnificent, truly awe inspiring, the image of a true knight of the realm. If this is what Sotheby's had done to them, just think of what they would do for me! Then suddenly, a call shook me from my jealousy!

"I say old chap, haven't seen you in bloody years!" It was Boderick, such a nice fellow!

"Great Scot, if it isn't the amazing Erik, how've you been my dear friend!" Bellowed Frederick!

From that moment on, there was much discussion! (No, Evey and the fat man will not have heard us as when suits of armour speak, our language is distinguished as a creak or groan of metal; developed so that we may communicate without being discovered by the human masters…genius really!)

We knights had much to discuss, and much to reminisce on too! Boderick reminded me of the time involving the maiden, the piece of string, the hot wax and the pig. Frederick chipped in by explaining exactly what happened _that night_ at Shilling Castle with him and the peacock. And I regaled them both with my tale of astounding bravery as I once battle the dragon with that famous chap…what's his name…George or something. Oh, so delightful to once again discuss old times with the boys, it was like we've never been away from each other.

However, what I had not noticed all the while we were talking, was that the rotund man had been prodding about my various parts; with no regard for where he was sticking his fingers either! A slight chuckle from Frederick and Boderick made me realise that something was amiss here, and that all was not well.

"What's the verdict Brod? What they giving him do you think?" Boomed Frederick in his usual manor.

"Hard to say old chap, that fat fellow isn't smiling though. Not like he did when he looked at us!" Boderick replied with much gusto.

I enquired as to exactly what they meant and rather rudely they both laughed at me, much to my surprise! What the devil was going on here? Was I not here to be cleaned? Possibly not…

"Oh old chap, you've no idea have you? Had one too many knocks to the head I expect?" Laughed Boderick.

"Erik my lad, you're in an auction house." Frederick tried to explain, but by my blank expression, he knew he had to explain further.

"An auction house is where the fleshy ones send items they don't want any more to be sold! That' why me and Boderick are here! We've been sold by the breathing ones that owned us and we're off to Virgina next week!" He resounded.

"Fetched a princely sum I did too old Erik. I sold for nigh on £250,000! Frederick sold for just under £210,000! Wonder what they'll get for you old boy!" Chirped Boderick, most pleased with his financial coup.

But at this point I had suddenly lost interest in their conversation and had swiftly turned my ears and my full attention to the portly man and Evey…the witch. She was selling me? Getting rid of dear old Erik? How could she? I defended her honour so many times, kept her company all those nights, kept a watchful eye on her on countless occasions! She was selling me for financial gain?

My none existant heart sank, I felt so rejected. I wished to be back at the gallery, with that fop beating the hell out of me. Or to be there covered in a layer of inch think dust. Or to be subject to a hissing attack by Miss Africa. Anything but this. I pleaded with her. I begged her. If I could have got on hands and knees I would have. But my pleas fell upon deaf ears. Erik's fate looked like it was being sealed…I was to be sold.

I turned to the fat man, trying to understand just what he was telling Evey. I understood this part well, as did Frederick and Boderick who were trying to hide their amusement at me predicament.

"I'm sorry miss, but due to his extremely poor condition and the overall state of him, he's pretty much worthless. I maybe able to offer you a minimal amount, say £50 if you really want shut of him?"

I didn't know whether to be relieved or horrified. Relieved in that if I was worthless she wouldn't sell me. Horrified that a knight of my calibre, or my age and wisdom was being sold for such a paltry amount! I decided to go with the former…I did not wish to test my luck! But I still could not comprehend why those two had sold for such high amounts, and myself being told I'm not worth a bloody bean!

Worthless? Worthless? Like a scrap of paper or a broken old cup, worthless. Of no value what so ever. Totally devoid of any financial value. I could not believe I was deemed as worthless, as having no significance or appeal to anyone! A knight of my standing, of my age and quality…worthless. The words rang in my head and I began to feel extremely dejected, and truly believed I actually was worthless.

And then just as I thought it was over for dear Erik; just as I imagined I was to be boxed up and put into dusty storage for and eternity my saviour walked through the door.

I could swear that he shone, that a blinding white light surrounded him as he entered the room. He had a god-like quality about him, maybe he was immortal? He did not walk, nay he floated into the room to rescue me, to save me from almost certainly being sold to the fat man. Although Evey did not recognise him at first, I did instantly.

It was the cad. My utter saviour, I love him now. He was wearing one of his less used masks, one I imagine Evey had not seen before. He stood with such power, such authority; I actually admired him…he had come to save me…my lord.

"I'll give you £60 for him if I can take him now?" The fop said hands on hips, staring firmly at Evey who had now realised who it was and was blushing furiously, trying to make herself small. Yes it was him, I recognised his tone. Recognised the way he rolls his tongue around his F's and his voice becomes more hushed toward the end of a sentence.

It was him. My _knight in shining armour_. I wish I could kiss him. Never before have I been so pleased to see him…ever.

The fat man rubbed his hands greedily and agreed to the sale with little haste. I hoped I was about to be let out of my cardboard confines and reassembled, but instead I remained there; at least I was safe in the cad's hands and not those of that deranged harpie!

At least I was worth something…even to him…even if it was only a measly £60…"

--------------------

"After money had exchanged hands, after I had said my emotional good byes to Boderick and Frederick and wished them well in Virginia, the harlequin was taking me home…in my box. By this point Evey had fully understood it was him and realised just who it was, and _just how_ much trouble she actually was in.

The entire way home, I silently thanked him. With much reverence, a boat load of respect and more happiness than I care to imagine.

He truly is my saviour, my hero, my lord. From now on I vow to have nothing but total respect for him. I shall call him by his proper name and give him all the reverence he so rightly deserves.

I promise to cherish him as my rightful master, the one to whom I belong, the one who saved me! He can dual with me as often as he likes. He can leave me undusted for a year, I care not, such is my new respect for the harlequin…

Oi watch it you blithering fool… have a bit more care you prat…my head nearly fell out of the bloody box!"


	19. Chapter 19

**_Well I must say that writing this fic has become even more fun, as now when I write I actually have Erik stood in front of me; he's adorable! I'd like to thank Yoda for him and for providing me with such inspiration in the form of mini-Erik!_**

Ode to Erik

The Uninvited Guest

"Why is it that every time I close my blasted eyes for forty-winks I am awoken?

It always happens; if it's not the harlequin wanting to devalue me some more, it's the Hotpoint 747 on an inbound flight from New York. If it's not Miss Africa hissing, it's the television blearing out Roman epics like Ben Hurr or Spartacus. Every bleeding time I try take a little snooze, I find something that distracts me from my rest.

And, I also want to know, why is it that every single day in this place I seem to sustain some form of an injury? I do not move, I do not speak, I stand perfectly still, Erik behaves himself. Yet more often then not I am the victim of daily assaults upon my person! It just will not do!

And today was as always, no exception.

---------------------

It has been a few days since the wanderer returned to the safety of the Shadow Gallery. I'm back where I belong and glad of it! Although I enjoyed my little 'vacation' I am thrilled to be back home and watching over everything once more. I think I'll leave all that new fandangled crap to the people upstairs, it's too late to teach this old dog new tricks!

My little jaunt had worn me out terribly and I have been spending considerable amounts of time asleep. Now being very old, it is quite important that I take these regular naps, and it is something that I do so enjoy. And this morning was no different. I found myself in the hands of a most delightful snooze; filled with dreams of lances, dragons and pretty maidens. I was so enjoying my sleep; it was true ambrosia and just what a weary suit of armour like myself needed. I was in heaven…literally.

That was until I was brought back down to earth with a sharp bump! Through the clouds I fell, down from the sky and smack bang back into the gallery. I was slightly confused but my senses were soon rudely alerted to the problem I was facing and the reason I had been awakened.

Amid much banging and clattering, there came a shrill scream resonating around the gallery. A long, loud howl of terror. It sounded like a human possessed, nay a banshee in fact. The cry reached new decibels and I'm sure a few glasses in the kitchen smashed. The shriek of horror was truly blood-curdling and I think that my vambraces curled it was so piercing! It was horrendous, it made me feel sick! The ferocity of said scream made me shake and quiver! What on earth could this be?

Had V been attempting to cook _again_ and burnt himself? No, no, he was upstairs with his bombs…

Was it Evey in some form of severe distress?

Or was the gallery in fact haunted by a wailing spectre?

(I was soon to find out.)

As soon as the scream ended, Eveys bedroom door flung open violently. She flew out of that room like a bat out of hell, like the very devil himself was up her backside! She was failing about wildly; flinging her arms in the air like a deranged beast, tearing about the gallery like a maniac. She danced and hopped about like she was treading upon hot coals; it was very amusing to watch! But once again she opened her little mouth and from it came that scream…again. A cry of such an extravagant pitch I felt sure the gods had heard it. It truly reached new levels of noise ever emitted from one single person, and such a tiny one at that. I mean just how does such a small delicate creature produce such a sound? If I had freedom of movement my hands would have gone straight over my ears!

After running about like a headless chicken, the scream tailed off and she darted into the kitchen. After much banging of doors and slamming of pans, she emerged triumphantly and came out menacingly brandishing the broom. Her face was grey as storm clouds, her grimace as cold as granite, her stance as scary as can be. This was a girl on a mission I could just tell. Like a radar she began to scan the floor, obviously looking for something, but in heavens name knows what!

Suddenly I felt a slight tickle on my left leg; this distracted me from watching Evey.

It stopped.

Then it began again, up my leg, swiftly up the side of my torso and then over my breast-plates. (I am quite ticklish you know and had a job on not laughing out loud!) Then the tickling torture continued and made its way up my neck then stopped and resided upon my face!

I must say I was quite surprised to see that the administrator of such virile tickling was in fact none other than a harmless little house spider! Well he wasn't so much little; he was actually fairly large, big long hairy legs and vicious looking pincers that seemed to move of their own accord! Waggling his mandibles at me was perhaps not a friendly sign in spider terms, but he appeared to be of no obvious threat to myself so I made no attempt to move him along. (It's a good job I'm not scared of the blasted things isn't it?)

Well dear reader, let me tell you know. The only thing I remember before I was knocked unconscious was little Miss Hammond. Or should I perhaps call her little Miss Psycho? She cast her gaze upon my direction with such veracity and such menace that I thought I might turn to stone. If looks could kill I would have died a thousand deaths. Her eyes narrowed, her neck twitched…she was going to launch herself at me. I heard her mumble to herself angrily:

"There you are…now you're mine!"

Then she came at me like a woman possessed, like a totally unhinged person. I have been attacked by other knights, set upon by rabid dogs, even fought against the odd dragon or two, but NEVER in my life have I been assaulted in such a manor as she subjected me to. She was screaming and yelling, shouting all the profanities under the sun (I think the air turned blue at one point, delicate Erik was shocked!) She was deranged; I think I even saw her eyes turn red at one point!

She brought that broom down with such a force that I thought I was being pulverised into scrap metal! Every part of me shook and trembled as I was subjected to her terrifying attack. It was so brutal and inhumane, that I truly believed I would fall to pieces and never be able to be fixed again! She reigned blows upon me so fiercely, all I could do was pray for the end or that the cad would save me once again. I was wishing I was being lanced, anything other than smacked repeatedly with the damn broom! But I had no such luck and was made to endure the terror of a crazed arachnophobic with a weapon. All this over a little spider.

It was obvious now; the poor little chap had come to me for protection after managing to escape Eveys clutches in her bedroom. (Not a place a decent little thing like him wants to be anyway!) His waggling mandibles must have been a form of communication; I was quite touched to be considered as his saviour. But a swift and crushing blow from that damned evil broom handle brought me from my elation. The last thing I remember was my head becoming air born and soaring past the television room. After that I think I may have passed out as I do not remember anything until I awoke to find my head back rather uncomfortably where it belongs. It must have been the fop who put me back as I doubt she would know how to do it properly!

I now have a nice headache for my troubles and a large dent to the side of my head, which is always pleasant (like I'm not worthless enough as it is…) I mean it, that is the very last time I try and sneak a nap whilst Miss Machiavelli is near. Heavens know what she will attempt to do to me next!

However, I did win one small victory against that nutty woman…

Well not that small actually…

I now have a new friend…

Someone I can finally talk to…

Dear readers, please allow me to introduce you to Cederic the house spider."


	20. Author's Note

Author's Note

Dear readers…

It is with a heavy heart and a tear in my eye that I tell you that our dear old Erik is leaving us for a short while.

**But all is not lost! **

He will indeed be returning to us very very soon, just after he has completed touring the UK with his new and most recent adventure.

He recently informed me he has actually been offered and accepted a part in the West End production of Joseph & His Amazing Technicolour Dream Coat.

Erik will in fact be starring as the lead role of Joseph.

(Ticket prices start from £35 in the stalls, £40 circle and £45 balcony. Tickets can be purchased from either 'erik-on-stage-dot-com' or by calling 0800-123-ERIK)

So my avid readers, Erik will return in a very short while. Keep your peepers peeled for the next instalment of Erik's observations and connotations……

**Elegy of Erik**


End file.
